The Hunter
by Chimera's Soul
Summary: Jack Morrison was too weak to save the world. Too distracted by the angel in his arms to see the devil at his back. His failures had created soldier 76. So why was she still able to stop him in his tracks. Angela couldn't place it, but something about this jaded vigilante made her sad. Something in the way he stood, like he was holding the world.
1. Chapter 1

Disclamer: I dont own any of this(duh)

Author's note: If there is even a little interest in this story, I will keep writing, so don't worry about it suddenly ending, I hate that too. Feel free to spam message me if a chapter doesnt come out at LEAST every other week. Reviews appreciated and wanted, but not mandatory.

Soldiers Never Break

" _Better to die for something than to stand for nothing"_

Soldier 76 slammed the thug's face into the brick alley wall, feeling the skull shatter beneath his steel prosthetic arm and watching his body go limp. He supposed he should feel something, remorse maybe, after dispatching the five muertos gang members, but frankly the only guilt he felt came from wasting perfectly good bullets on such easy targets. Luckily this time there was no little girl here, so he didn't have to pull any punches. He shrugged his shoulders and winced as he felt a piece of shrapnel dig painfully into his shoulder blade. Reaching back, he yanked it out, thankfully pulling it out cleanly without much tearing. The two inch shard of metal was covered in blood, but his wounds never bled for long.

Sighing, he went about taking any ammo or weapons he could use off the bodies, methodically checking pockets and holsters for anything worthwhile. He finished quickly, and took one final look at the scene before quickly scaling a nearby fire escape to reach the roof of what he could only guess was an apartment complex. His visor provided him with a constant news feed, and if it was correct, he was only about six minutes from a police standoff with what were only being described as "dangerous extremists". If he used the visor's uplink and stuck to the rooftops, he could probably get there before the police tried something stupid or one of the hostages tried to play hero.

Checking his pulse munition supply, he was about to start sprinting towards the standoff when his visor flashed an urgent warning. Frowning, he opened the notification and saw a live news feed with an attractive reporter with a vaguely hispanic accent standing outside what appeared to be...the building he was currently standing on top of.

"Yes I am just getting confirmation now, the vigilante and wanted criminal known as 'soldier 76' is indeed on the roof of this building, and it appears he has once again taken the law into his own hands by racking up his body count once again. Police are currently en route to intercept him, as are members of a special task force composed largely of former members of the disgraced Overwatch initiative."

Soldier 76 growled in frustration. This was NOT good. The police he could handle, most members of overwatch he could handle, both at once however would give him trouble, especially since he wouldn't dream of using lethal force against them. He had to make a break for it. Sprinting from one end of the roof to the other, he leaped across the 10 foot gap to the next rooftop over, landing just as the rooftop door burst open and SWAT police flooded the roof he had just been standing on. He kept running, leaping from building to building. He grimaced under his visor as they opened fire and grazed his shoulder, but kept moving. He knew they couldn't keep up with him, but it wasn't the police he was worried about. All of the sudden, he saw a blur of movement on his left.

"Sorry love, but I'm gonna have to ask for you to pull over."

Morrison didn't even have time to curse before Tracer shot her leg out and tripped him, sending him tumbling to the ground. He pivoted as he rolled, firing his rifle in an arc but making sure it was at her feet. He didn't want to hurt the girl after all, just stop her movement for a second. Sure enough, she did stop, though just long enough for jack to get back to his feet. He leveled his rifle and aimed at her center of mass.

"Tracer," he growled, "I'm surprised you found time in your busy schedule to come after me. What, run out of museums to destroy?"

The speedster glared at 76, pistols leveled in front of her and obviously waiting for an opportunity to blitz him.

"At least I don't leave a bodycount everywhere I show up."

"Really," he asked, still watching her warily. Any second now. "Not one person was killed in that explosion? What about that omnic ambassador? He suddenly back from the dead?"

Her eyes narrowed and she suddenly darted to the side, just as he'd predicted. He easily sidestepped her shots, which he noticed were carefully aimed at his legs and not his head or chest, ran forward to engage her. Tracer darted back and forth, peppering him with non lethal shots and quick darting punches, but as she always did she quickly slowed down. Seeing his opening, he rushed forward, wrapped an arm around her throat, and used his free hand to place a gun to her temple. He would sooner shoot jesus himself than the girl he considered a surrogate daughter, but she didn't know that.

"Now tell your backup to show themselves before I add to my body count."

Tracer growled and tried to free herself, but 76 tightened his hold on her.

"Right now Mrs. Oxton. I really do not want to kill you, but we both know I'm not above murder."

Tracer, however, actually laughed.

"You know, for a guy known for evading the police, you reeeally skimped on the research love."

And suddenly she was behind him. _Dammit_. How could he have forgotten about her temporal shifts? It was all he could do to evade her now, and she very quickly managed to disarm him. They traded blows back and forth, neither one willing to use lethal force but neither willing to lose either. Tracer was fast, but 76 knew from experience that she would not be able to sustain that speed, nor would she be able to use her recall again for a long time. Sure enough, she started slowing down again, and this time he decided a more direct approach was needed. Using his visor to calculate her positioning ahead of time, he wound up his right hand and hit her directly in the temple. She crumpled to the ground, unconscious but otherwise relatively unharmed. He winced at the plasma burns she's left along much of his body. If she had been trying to kill him, he might have lost.

"That's no way to treat a lady, is it Winston?"

 _GOD. DAMMIT._

He turned slowly, and came face to face with lena's backup. Winston stood there, a stern look on his face as he raised his tesla cannon. Next to him, her wings flaring and her caduceus staff pumping extra power directly into Winston's Tesla reactor, was Angela Zeigler. Mercy herself, who unfortunately was not looking very merciful.

"No, Angela, it isn't. I'm going to give you one chance to come quietly. I suggest you take it."

Morrison silently read the inputs of his visor. He had to stall for just a few more minutes. Surely he could last a few minutes? He was about to find out.


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: Thanks to all the reviewers and all the people who favorited and followed this story, I am so glad the first chapter got such a positive response. I don't want to mention you all here for fear of accidently leaving someone out, but yeah. You guys are awesome. Anyway, I hope ya'll love this chapter, I had a blast writing it and its nearly twice as long as the last one :). Next chapter will be in mercy's perspective. As always, reviews are appreciated but in no way mandatory, plot questions will be answered with infuriating vagueness, ideas will be credited if used. Peace out girlscouts.**

Do No Harm

"Devil's are not the failure of men, but of angels"

Morrison knew he had to make the first move. Before Winston could react, He leveled his pulse rifle and fired his helix rockets directly into Winston's face, using the blowback to propel himself away from the now enraged gorilla. Winston followed him with a roar, dropping his cannon and swinging away with his massive fists. Morrison knew he couldn't win this fight, but maybe he could find a way out if he could weather the storm.

He started dodging and weaving around Winston's swings, taking pot shots with his rifle whenever he could. His visor's readings said he needed about 2 more minutes. Surely he could do that? He narrowly avoided a massive uppercut, sidestepping to the left and countering with two shots from his rifle. He was running low on ammo, and he didn't have time to reload. At this rate is was only a matter of time before CRACK. Jack's vision went black as a massive burning pain lit up his entire left side and he felt his body fly through the air before hitting a wall and crashing to the ground.

Shattered all three major arm bones shattered, 4 ribs pulverized. Severe internal bleeding, major concussion, large impact laceration above left temple. As his visor continued to list his injuries, Jack immediately started the pain suppression protocols he'd learned back in his special operations training. Mental gymnastics, mathematics, refocus. He checked the all important number in the top left of his HUD. still a minute and 30 seconds. He sighed and began the long, painful process of getting to his feet. He heard Angela calling to him.

"Stay still, you'll just make it worse."

Through the blood in his eyes, he could see them both approaching, and he chuckled. Angela was chastising Winston. Even when faced with an enemy, she was still too good for her own work. He finally struggled to his feet, gritting his teeth against the pain and wrapping one arm around his waist. Come on, just a little closer. Ignoring the agony in his arm, he ripped hs biotic field off his belt and activated. Before they could act, he was back to fighting shape and sprinting towards Winston. Silently apologizing to the scientist, he slammed his steel covered shin into his feet as he hurdled over him and dashed behind Angela, skidding and slamming his prosthetic into the ground to slow his momentum before turning and wrapping his human arm around her throat before she could react, using his robotic arm to draw and press his pistol to her temple.

"Don't move a muscle Winston."His visor flashed a warning,"Mrs. Oxton, front and center."

She had been sneaking up on him. Lena moved slowly, glaring at him the entire time as she walked over to Winston and stood next to him.

"Drop your pistols and kick them to the side."

She did as he asked begrudgingly, but then again he knew from experience she took all orders begrudgingly. His Visor flashed again and directed him to Angela's hand reaching for her small weapon.

"I wouldn't Angela. No matter how fast you can unholster that pistol, I promise I can pull my trigger faster."

The threat seemed to do the trick, thankfully no one seemed to notice that his safety was on. He would sooner put a bullet in his own head than one of theirs, but they didn't need to know that. Now, how the hell was he going to make it out of this?As he slowly started backing up, his visor scanned through plans as fast as he could think of them, highlighting one in particular. He frowned and kept looking. There had to be a way. Faster than he thought possible, the visor ran out of possibilities other than the one on the HUD. He sighed.

"I am leaving, Dr. Zeigler is coming with me. I will not harm her, and she will return to you safely."

Winston glared.

"And what makes you think you can outrun me?"

Jack silently activated his visor's targeting function.

"Because your mobile lab is 2 miles in the opposite direction."

Faster than any human could move, he removed his pistol from Angela's head and fired a single round. Directly into Tracer's chronal accelerator.

Tracer screamed as the blue light began flickering. Winston immediately rushed to her side. And Jack had already jumped off the building, knowing mercy's wings would cushion the fall. He hit the ground running, Angela firmly in hand, and sprinted into the nearest alley he could find. Angela was struggling, but his robotic arm hardly registered the force she was exerting. Thankfully she knew better than to be a woman screaming in the Dorado slums at night. They moved quickly, darting through alleys and hopping fences until they arrived at an abandoned apartment complex, fenced off with a large yellow "condemned" sign on the front gate. Jack quickly dragged Angela to a hole in the fencing and led her through it. He looked at her.

"Can you get us to the 10th floor?"

Her incredulous stare was all the answer he needed. He sighed.

"Fine, We'll walk." He let go of her and started moving, grimacing as shooting pains shot up his left leg, "Trust me when I say you don't want to be out here alone doctor. You're free to leave in the morning."

He turned to continue towards the stairs, but paused when she replied.

"What makes you think I won't go inform the police on your location?"

He turned to face her, her arms crossed and a stern glare on her face. It was a stance he was familiar with, the one she used when she was ready to argue.

"Because you know I'm listed as 'shoot on sight' and you wouldn't cause anyone's death on purpose, even mine. It's the same reason your plasma caster is set to non lethal. Now if you're done making empty threats, it's going to take long enough for me to get up the stairs as it is, I want to get a head start."

Satisfied with the flabbergasted offense on her face, he started to turn and walk away but felt a stern hand on his shoulder. He turned again to see Angela's still furious face.

"You're limping, your leg is broken. I'll fly us up and take a look."

Before Jack could say a thing, she had hooked her arms under him and started gliding upward. They reached the top relatively quickly and zipped through the broken window he directed her to. Inside the room was a single stained torn mattress on a steel frame, a dilapidated coffee table he had turned into a gunsmithing station, and a half rotted dest holding a silver laptop. He heard her disapproving _tch_ behind him.

"This is not how a human being should live." She motioned to a countertop in what remained of the kitchen. "Get on the counter and I'll take a look."

Jack smiled under the visor in spite of himself. Still such a mother hen. The only one worse than her was Ana. He shuddered to think what she would say. He did as Angela said quickly, limping over to the counter and boosting himself up. She brushed off a spot on the ground and knelt down before rolling unbuckling his steel shin guard and rolling up the pants leg. She pursed her lips.

"Who did the stitches on your calf where this scar is?"

Jack couldn't very well tell her it had been tracer during one of their forays into omnic POW camps in the aftermath of the war where a stray piece of shrapnel had sliced into his leg.

"An old friend."

She tsked again.

"Well, whoever this 'old friend' was had the medical competence of a squirrel. The way the wound closed, I imagine it pulls whenever you extend your foot. As for the fracture, it seems to be a compression break, probably from when you dragged me off the roof." He winced a little at the wording. It hadn't been that rough had it? "I have no supplies here, so you'll just have to stay off it. We'll take you to a hospital in the morning."

Jack immediately shook his head.

"No hospitals. I can't be seen in public."

She looked at him in irritation.

"Then take the mask off and dress like a normal human being. You can't just ignore this fracture, you'll need a cane to walk if you do."

"Can't do that either. No offense doctor, but we aren't exactly friends. I don't trust you not to tell the people hunting me exactly what I look like, and I cannot afford to go to jail."

She growled in frustration and stood up.

"You cannot ignore an injury like this. Even If I did set the bone, it would take days for it to heal even for someone like you, and I do not trust _you_ to stay off it that long. Now stop being a child."

Jack was glad his face was hidden so she couldn't see the blanket shock on his face.

"Someone like me?"

She shrugged and glared at him.

"Im a doctor, I can put two and two together. You kept up with Lena, you Knocked out a gorilla, and crossed a rooftop to take me hostage in 6 seconds. You obviously have advanced military training as well. If I had to guess, I'd say you were one of the candidates for the super soldier program. I've...had experiences with you people before, and I'll tell you what I used to tell them: Being superhuman does not make you immune to the limits of the human body, it just raises them.

Jack was struck by a sense of nostalgia. She used to shout at him like this all the time. Every time he got injured and refused to take meds or stay still, she would threaten to have someone hold him down. He would always calm her down eventually, find ways to placate her. But those options were unfortunately off the table.

"Set the bone. I'll stay off it."

She raised her brow. Another thing she used on him all the time.

"Swear it. On something that means something to you."

Jack nodded. How to skate past that?

"I swear on my life."

She scoffed.

"Please, I care more about your life than you do and you held a gun to my head. Try again."

He sighed. No getting out of it.

"I swear as a soldier I will stay off the leg until it's healed."

Angela pursed her lips for a second, obviously deciding whether or not she believed him, before nodding.

"Good enough. Lie down on the counter. Do you have something to bite down on? This is going to hurt."

He lied down flat on the counter.

"I've had worse. Just get it over with."

Angela shrugged.

"If you say so."

Before he could really react, she had taken his foot in her hands and used all her body weight to push it back into place. He grunted as the pain shot up his leg, but other than that he didn't make a sound. Like he'd told her, he'd had much worse. He sat up.

"Thanks doc. You take the mattress, I'll sleep on the floor. Least I can do."

She looked like she was about to accept the offer, then begrudgingly shook her head.

"You need the rest more. I'll sleep" she looked around until she saw what remained of a stained fabric couch, "There I suppose."

Jack knew from experience there was no arguing with Angela when it came to patient's well being so he did as she said. He used his rifle as a crutch to keep himself off the leg, but he would have fallen had Angela not wrapped his arm around her shoulders and helped him hobble to the bed. She eased him down, and after taking another disapproving look at the filthy mattress, muttered something along the lines of "stubborn mule" and moved over to the couch. Jack would have found this funny, but he was out like a light almost as soon as his head hit the mattress. Little did he know, Mercy was not.


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: HEY GUYS! So turns out I'm like, on a roll with this. Can't stop writing. Also this dude you're gonna see, totally improvised his character. So yeah, let me know what you think about him, whether you want him to stick around or just be a one chapter wonder, questions, concerns, etc. Also preempting this one: NO. This is not turning into a mercyxOC story. Also, looking for fanart of the series and I guess this story if I ever get that popular, so feel free to send it all to me if you want. Reviews are awesome but not mandatory, any questions involving the future of this plot will be answered with infuriating vagueness, and as always ideas will be credited if used, so feel free to make suggestions. Peace out girlscouts :)**

Avalanche

"All great things are simple, and many can be expressed is single words: Freedom, justice,honor, duty, mercy, hope" - Winston Churchill

Angela sat on the filthy couch thinking. There was no way she was putting her bare head on that thing, who knew how many different species of bacteria were living there. If he hadn't needed the rest, and if she thought for one second she could overpower the stubborn mule even with a broken leg, she would have dragged him by his ear to the nearest clean hotel. As it stood she was stuck weighing her options on a couch covered in stains of questionable origin with a wanted international criminal sleeping a few meters away. She was almost certain he was asleep. She'd learned from experience with Jack that super soldiers dropped like rocks and stayed that way when they were tired. She smiled sadly as she remembered him quite literally sleeping through a test of new artillery on base.

Angela shook her head. This wasn't Jack, and she couldn't afford to draw comparisons. She'd seen the reports. This man had stolen thousands in military hardware, and used it to kill and intimidate whoever he deemed worthy. He'd held a gun to her head and _shot_ Lena.

She frowned. How _had_ he known about the chronal accelerator, much less that Winston could fix it and where his lab was? Did...did this man have a connection to overwatch? Come to think of it, Winston had said something about someone hunting them. She looked over at him again. He was asleep, and that visor looked easy enough to remove… No, she couldn't risk it. She needed to leave. He was her patient and so she couldn't bring herself to betray him, but that didn't mean she couldn't bring herself to escape a hostage situation.

Angela stood and quietly gathered her staff from the wall where she had left it leaning. She looked over at 76 and then shifted her gaze over to the belt he'd left hanging on a dilapidated chair. That device he'd used to regenerate from winston's attacks was there. It was obviously some kind of biotic tech, but she could learn a lot from a piece of tech like that, and he had likely stolen it anyway. Moving as quickly as she could, she grabbed the device and glided out the window, missing the small blinking red light in the corner of the sill. She would have to move quickly. Any streets that man considered dangerous were not to be lingered in.

Landing on the main street, she moved quickly, sticking as best she could to the dimly lit streets. How could a city this big be so quiet at night? Even in switzerland, the cities were never dead, even in the dead of the night you could find people enjoying themselves in coffee shops or parks. Here though, there was an oppression in the air, like the night was daring anyone to challenge its power.

Angela frowned as she watched a man shamble into the mouth of an alley and fall down on a torn blanket. He was obviously a muertos member, the signature glowing skeleton tattoos covering his body were proof seemed to have some kind of infection in his lower leg judging from the swollen and pus filled nodules dotting his calf. She looked around. It seemed safe enough. She began walking slowly towards the man trying to be as unthreatening as possible as she pulled a syringe of antibacterial fluid from her bag.

"Excuse me sir, are you in need of assistance? I am a doctor." She tried to sound as non threatening as possible as she neared him. Apparently it was not enough. As she neared him, he started shouting in spanish and reaching frantically behind him. She couldn't understand most of it, but she did hear "Vishkar" and "Muertos". Why would he be afraid of the Vishkar corporation? She held her hands up.

"No Vishkar!" she said, eyes widening as he brandished a revolver. "Doctora! Doctora!"

He lowered the gun slowly, warily eying the syringe in her hand.

"Doctor? Why carry gun?" he pointed to her plasma caster with the barrel of his pistol.

She raised an involuntary eyebrow.

"Would you not carry a gun?" she asked in spanish.

He paused for a second, then gave a begrudging chuckle and lowered his gun, squinting and looking at her again.

"If you are vishkar, you are at least not so bad to look at."

She laughed and knelt down to examine the leg. It had been broken, from what she could see he had set it himself, which is probably where the infection started. Sighing, she pushed the needle in and pressed the miracle fluid into the leg, watching the nodules deflate.

"This will be tender for a while, but it will be healed in a few days. Just do not go out looking for trouble with your Muertos friends for a while."

He spat.

"I am not Los Muertos any longer. Los Muertos is not what it once was. We started out fighting off vishkar to save our homes from becoming one of their shiny slave camps. Now we flood the streets with guns and drugs, and demand tribute for our "valiant struggle"" he sighed, "We are just parasites now."

Suddenly he shoved her to the side as a bullet went whizzing past her ear. As she got to her feet, she saw him use the wall to struggle to his.

"You should leave now doctora. I would hate for you to see this." He pulled what appeared to be a homemade knife from his coat pocket, his blue tattoos glinting off the pock marked surface as he held it under his gun in an icepick grip. Across from him were three young men with the skull tattoos of the muertos in different colors, two brandishing lengths of pipe and one leaning a rifle against his shoulder. The one in the middle smiled.

"Come on Carlos, let's not make this any worse than it has to be. You've got what, _maybe_ 1 bullet left in that thing? There's three of us, and last I checked you weren't feeling to good."

Carlos jerked his chin to the bandages wrapping the man's abdomen.

"Neither were you. Unless my brain is going fuzzy, you're boyfriends here had to pull me off you." He glanced at the man on the left. " In fact, I think you still have my favorite knife."

The man with the rifle glared at Carlos for a second, then shrugged.

"I guess you're right there Carlos. Joey, give the man his knife."

Everything was still for a moment. Then, everyone exploded into action. Before Angela could react, they had all rushed Carlos. And yet, they could not seem to hit him, though blood was flying everywhere. He moved like...like a snake, a viper, the dull metal of his homemade blade and pistol glinting in the moonlight, slashing and bashing with the precision of a man who had killed too many too often and had let it seep into his subconscious. One of the attackers fell, and from a distance Mercy could see that he was covered in small cuts, tendons and ligaments expertly slashed and a single clean slice across the throat cutting off his air supply. She shuddered. As she watched, they backed Carlos into a corner and the man with the middle managed to land a vicious strike across his temple. He stumbled and hit the brick wall, using it as a springboard to propel himself back into them. He was bleeding now, but still fighting. As she watched, he deflected a pipe swing with his pistol and slammed his blade into the thug's arm, ripping the blade back towards him and separating the bicep from the bone like a butcher stripping a deer. The man screamed and fell back. And that was when things went wrong. As soon as the man screamed, more thugs flooded the alley, too many for Carlos to fight. But he tried. He whirled and fought like a panther, his weapons coated in blood and his hair matted with blood from the strike, he killed two as soon as they got close to him. From across the alley, someone leveled a rifle, but Carlos was faster. He leveled his pistol and fired a single shot, the bullet landing dead center in the man's chest and sending him flying back into an abandoned fruit cart. Soon, they overwhelmed him through pure numbers. One of them put him in a choke hold from behind. He slammed both feet into the chest of the man in front of him, slamming him into a wall, but it was no use. They disarmed him. He struggled as they slammed him down and put him face first into the street.

"Doctora...run!Go now!"

She reached for her belt and pulled her plasma caster. Taking aim as Jack and Reyes had taught her, she started firing, hitting one, than another, where they dropped convulsing to the ground. She quickly dispatched the men holding him up.

"Get up Carlos! Quickly!"

He did as she asked, struggling to his feet and limping over to her as quickly as possible. Looping one of his arms around her shoulders, she told him to hold on and took off, gliding up to the roof of a building. As soon as they landed, they kept moving, limping to the edge of the roof and gliding to the next one. They did this for about 10 minutes straight, until Mercy felt she might drop the man if she tried again. They limped over to a rooftop storage shed and Carlos kicked the door in. They hurried inside and sat down, Carlos wincing as he did so. Angela looked at him in concern, then sighed and stood up.

"Take your clothes off, down to your underwear."

Carlos raised an eyebrow and gave her a suggestive smirk through the pain. With the skull tattoos glowing in the dark, it was a very unsettling appearance.

"I've heard of naughty nurses before but this is ridiculous."

Angela glared at him indignantly.

"Get your mind out of the gutter. I can't stitch you up if you're dressed."

He laughed.

"In case you missed it, I _live_ in the gutter, kind of hard to remove myself. And besides it was a joke. As much fun as it would be, I don't know if I'd live through the experience right now."

Angela rolled her eyes and tapped her foot. He was surprisingly hard to stay mad at. He reminded her of Jack for some reason, though now days it seemed every violent criminal did that

"You can take them off or I can cut them off. Your choice."

He wisely chose not to comment and started undressing. Angela had to keep from shuddering. His body was covered in tattoos and scars. On his arm he had tattooed the symbol of multiple mexican military and para-military operations, and all over his bodies were names. Angela supposed she shouldn't ask.

"What are those names for?" She asked before she could stop themselves.

He smiled whimsically and continued undressing around his wounds.

"You are to curious for your own good I think. You should not ask questions you do not want answers for." he yanked off his boots and tossed them to the side. "There, I am finished. Now patch me up, if you do not mind. These cuts are starting to pull." She knelt down and started her examination. Luckily she had seen more than enough to not be flustered by a near naked man.

Calling his injuries cuts was perhaps the biggest understatement she'd heard out of anyone's mouth other than reinhardt's. While many of them were minor and all had missed the major arteries, most of them were at least a half inch deep. She hissed as she found a particularly nasty one about 5 inches above his knee on his inner thigh. Another inch could have hit something vital. She looked up at him.

"Your injuries are mostly minor but I'm going to have to seal them with an organic adhesive, I don't believe for a second you'll have time or a mind to rest and recover and torn stitches can lead to some nasty infections. The glue will restrict your movements a bit, but it won't tear."

He frowned.

"Can you not use that staff you have? I have seen it used to cure worse than this Dr. Zeigler."

Angela was proud of herself. She only paused in shock for a moment before going back to her task, carefully using the sealant to seal the wounds."

"You know who I am." It was not a question.

She felt him shrug.

"Even without the wings and halo, it is not all that hard to recognize a face like yours, as well as that unusual device you carry. So, why can you not use it to fix these cuts?"

She sighed and moved on to another cut.

"The staff is specifically tuned to certain biotic signatures. It can only be used to heal overwatch members, as it works by recognizing and replacing their unique cells." She recalled the bitter taste in her mouth when she realized what had been done by the overwatch superiors funding her project, "It was not a design choice on my end. I had superiors, and I have not been able to reverse the safeguards they put in."

He chuckled.

"It is funny no? These organizations always seem to want to save the world with everything except education and medicine. That must be kept to themselves."

She snorted as she glued the last wound shut.

"I have said the same thing for longer than I remember." Surveying her work one last time, she stood and nodded. Carlos grinned and began putting on his clothes.

"As long as you don't get into any more fist fights, you should be fine in a few weeks."

He laughed, but she gave him a stern look.

"Im serious. Avoid those guys in the alley and their friends. At least till you've healed up."

He tilted his head in curiosity, something Angela found out of place with the glowing skull on his face.

"Why would I need to avoid them? They're dead. You shot many of them yourself."

She frowned.

"I didn't kill them Carlos, my weapons are all set to non lethal."

His face went blank.

"They're still alive?"

Angela backed up a step. Now he reminded her more of Reyes. Dark, intense, on the brink of snapping. She worked to keep her voice level.

"I took an oath to do no harm. I do not take it lightly."

He sighed and took a step around her. She stepped in front of him, though all her instincts told her not to. He looked at her with that same dangerous, calm stare.

"Get out of my way Dr. Zeigler."

She forced herself to look at his tattooed face.

"I cannot let you hurt those men. Whoever they may be."

"You cannot stop me."

She shivered.

"No. I cannot. But I cannot let you either."

He stared at her for a second, then sighed.

"I won't kill them if they behave themselves, deal? I left my knives back there, I need to go get them."

She looked at his face, as if that would tell her anything. It was as blank as paper, but she felt as if he would keep his word. She nodded, and he smiled.

"Good. Try to keep up."

And with that they were out in the warm Dorado night air again. Carlos knew plenty of back streets, and while he couldn't leap rooftops he could hop fences and climb gates just fine. Twice now he had to open it for her because her gliding was too slow. Before Angela could process how much she needed to work on her cardio, they had arrived. Many of the men had cleared out, though they had left the dead behind. Angela had to look away. She wasn't squeamish, she was a field medic after all, but death always made her nauseous. Carlos rummaged through the alleyway unperturbed, eventually coming up with his two knives and his pistol. He looked at her and grinned when he saw her looking away.

"I'm sorry Doctora but I did try to leave you behind." He saw that she was genuinely uncomfortable and sighed. "Come, I will take you to wherever it is you had wanted to go." He moved to take her arm when an unfamiliar voice sounded from behind, dark and menacing.

"I do apologize Caracara, but the good doctor and I have business to attend to."

Angela stared in shock at the Man now facing carlos, who had whirled and struck out with his knives as soon as he had heard the voice, seemingly hitting air. He was tall, in a black hood and tactical gear with two shotguns in his hands, a menacing black mask on his face.

Carlos glared and moved in front of Angela, but Angela barely noticed that. What she did notice was that she recognized that voice, distorted though it may be. Reyes was alive.


	4. Chapter 4

Hey guys I just want to apologize for the delays on chapter 4. I've been swamped with finals but I will have plenty of time to write next week and I'm half done as it is so look for a new chapter Sunday or Monday of next week.


	5. Chapter 5

**an: Hey guys sorry about the delay and the short chapter, I just got blindsided by some personal stuff so I've been a bit preoccupied. I promise I won't be this late on an upload again, as I know how annoying it can be UPDATE YO STORY EMERALDS AND DAGGERS. But anyway, yeah this has both their perspectives in it, a line of # indicates a perspective shift. Let me know what you think, and again Im sorry for the late update. As always Reviews are appreciated but not mandatory, Plot questions will be answered with infuriating vagueness, and ideas will be credited if used. Peace out girl scouts.**

Wrath and Ruin.

" _Tis said that wrath is the last thing in a man to grow old"_

 _-Alcaeus_

Angela stared. She couldn't help it. Reyes was _alive_. She had seen him after the explosion. Nothing could have saved him without… a cold pit formed in her stomach as she forced herself to look at the bone white mask.

"Gabriel…" he showed no reaction at her knowing his name, just continued to stare at Carlos with his guns raised. "what did they do to you?"

After a second he raised his head and stared at her through the eyes of his mask.

"You tell me Angela." He looked down at Carlos again and pulled back the hammer on his shotguns. "I'm going to count to three."

Carlos opened his mouth to speak with a grin, but just as he was about to Reyes pulled both triggers. Carlos dove to the side and avoided the worst of it, but even so Angela saw blood spatter the concrete as he tumbled awkwardly back to his feet and rushed Reyes, blades reflecting the light of his tattoos as he moved. But Gabriel was fast. Carlos' first two attacks hit empty air, and when he came back around Gabriel's hands shot out and caught his wrists, his strange clawed gauntlets leaving shallow cuts on Carlos' forearms. Using his enhanced strength, Angela watched in horror as He forced the tattooed man to his knees. He spoke.

"What Caracara? Playing hero all the sudden? You of all people should know how that ends."

Carlos grimaced.

"Yes well, I never did like being in debt, and I owe the blonde so" exerting what had to be enormous effort, he rotated onto his back and kicked Reyes square in the face. Reyes released his grip and stumbled back, holding his mask in place, and Carlos capitalized, tackling him to the ground and attempting to wrap the larger man up in some form of hold.

"GO! Get out of here now! I cannot hold him for long!"

As he said this, Gabriel slammed the back of his head into Carlos' face, shattering his nose and leaving him a bloody unconscious mess. Reyes seemed to flow to his feet, strange smoke drifting from his body as he did. He turned his back to Angela and pointed his shotguns at Carlos.

"Goodbye, Caracara"

Angela had to do something. Faster than she thought possible, she drew her plasma caster and pulled the trigger, firing a bolt directly into reapers side. It wouldn't kill him but it might slow him down. As the bolt impacted him, his back straightened and he dropped his guns momentarily before turning to look at her. Angela felt herself go pale. Rage was emanating out of him like a physical force as he stalked towards her, easily evading the rest of her shots and grabbing her by the throat. He lifted her into the air and slammed her into a wall, causing black spots to dance in her eyes and her ears to start ringing.

"What happened to do no harm doctor?" He asked, squeezing her throat closed. She couldn't think. Couldn't breathe. She kicked out at him, but it was like kicking a wall. " What did you give up first? Your morals or your friends? All your talk about saving the world, helping the weak. You're just like the rest of your pathetic band of misfits, a bunch of parasites masquerading as a vaccine."

She could feel herself fading. She could no longer move her legs. Reyes was just a blur in front of her, dark and menacing. She could see some movement in the corner of her eye. It couldn't be Carlos, he was unconscious. So what- suddenly Angela heard Gabriel cry out as she fell to the ground. She gasped for air on her side, and saw a truly bizarre scene. It was soldier 76, battling Gabriel. He had his rifle and was running and kicking off walls all over the alley, out maneuvering Gabriel and his heavy, inaccurate shotguns and firing painful bursts of white hot plasma at the hooded man, who was growling in frustration and pain. What was he doing here? Angela was starting to regain her awareness, and suddenly her eyes widened. Carlos! She looked around frantically for him, but where he had been lying earlier there was only a bloodstain. She sighed in relief, it seemed he would be ok for now. Turning her attention back to the battle between 76 and Reyes as she struggled to her feet, she noticed they both seemed to be out of weapons and were currently battling it out with fists. Observing the fight she couldn't shake a feeling of deja vu. Gabriel had always been unyielding, willing to die before giving an inch of ground. Soldier on the other hand seemed to be more dynamic, moving and repositioning constantly, not allowing him to get comfortable in any one stance. But Angela knew even a super soldier could only keep up that kind of speed for so long. Even as she watched, 76 was slowing, the toll of gabriel's occasional landing shots beginning to weigh on the vigilante. In fact, Angela noticed with growing horror that Gabriel seemed no more worse for wear now then when he'd begun, as if the multiple plasma bolts he had been hit with hadn't even existed. Within a blink, 76 went from the aggressor to desperately fending off Gabriel's strange clawed style, shallow lacerations leaving streaks of red all over his torso and arms. Angela winced. If he kept on like this, Gabriel would kill him.

############################################################################

This was not working. No matter how much damage to him, Jack couldn't seem to leave a lasting impact. Gabriel had to have some kind of healing factor. Well, he didn't have to win, he just had to make time for Angela to run and she's still standing there what the fuck is she still standing there for?! He dodged a clawed swipe aimed at his throat and landed a vicious hook to Gabriel's jaw, sending him stumbling into the alley wall.

"Dr. Zeigler, you need to get out of here now! Quit standing around and go!"

Gabriel started pressuring him again, and when he spoke Jack could hear that darkness rattling in his throat.

"She's not going anywhere. And" Gabriel lashed out, too fast for jack to counter, raking him across the chest and sending him stumbling back. "Neither" Jack tasted blood in his mouth as Gabriel slammed a steel toed boot into his face, driving him to his knees. "Are" He felt his reinforced ribs shatter as Gabriel picked him up by his hair and threw him into the wall with enough force to crack the bricks. He couldn't even struggle as Gabriel ground his face into the dirt and grabbed his arm. "You" Jack couldn't suppress a scream as Gabriel Twisted his arm violently, shattering it in at least three places and wrenching it out of its socket. His vision went spotty as his visor helpfully informed him that his arm was dislocated. Just before he passed out, he heard a massive shape careen into to the alley and slam reaper into the far wall. He must have hit his head harder than he thought.


	6. Chapter 6

Razorblade Dance

 **AN: I LIIIIIIIIVE *ducks to avoid rotten fruit* seriously though I really am sorry for the long absence and I hope yall enjoy this chapter. Should be back on a regular publishing schedule from now to the foreseeable future, though I may tone down the frequency just a bit because one of my professors believes in the "character building" of long sections of book work. As always reviews are appreciated but not mandatory, plot questions will be answered with infuriating vagueness, and ideas will be credited if used. peace out girlscouts.**

"Inside of every cynic, there is a disappointed idealist."

-George Carlin

Morrison's head throbbed when he woke. It was dark. Was his visor dead? No, the battery was nearly limitless. What the actual fuck happened? He remembered sprinting to catch up when he realized Angela had gone, fighting Reyes and then….what? He couldn't remember. Sitting up with a groan, he surveyed his surroundings. He seemed to be in some kind of makeshift med bay, the cot he was on had the smell of sterilizer that still made his burn scars ache. Sighing and rolling his shoulders to relieve the stiffness from the accelerated healing his body had doubtless been doing to deal with the damage Reyes had inflicted, Jack eased himself off the bed and immediately regretted it. A head splitting pain shot up his spinal cord straight into the center of his skull like a blade, driving him to all fours as he retched. They said this might happen if he overtaxed his cybernetics, but he never imagined it would be this bad.

Doing as those shadowy doctors had told him long ago, he pressed a thumb hard against his mouth and waited. Seconds that seemed like days crawled by as the agony lessened bit by torturous bit. Eventually, it subsided enough that he could wipe the stinging sweat out of his eyes and off his face….his face. A cold chill ran through him. His visor was gone. Whoever had brought him here had removed it, had seen his face. Had Reyes beaten him and taken him here? No Reyes would have killed him. The Muertos? They would have done worse. So who… Oh no. no no no. Angela could NOT know he was still alive. None of the overwatch members could. They would try to follow him, and none of them could do what was necessary. They were probably planning to hold him here until he "saw sense". Fear sending a jolt through his system, he quickly moved around the room and found a closed industrial door. He tested the handle, and found to his surprise that it was unlocked. Jack frowned. Whoever these people were, old friends or new threats, he was going to show them what happened when you cornered a dead man.

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Angela awoke to an awful pounding in her head and a damp rag draped over her forehead. So she was concussed. Though she knew that from a medical perspective it was best to lie still, she had to find out where she was. Bracing herself for the pain to come, she sat up carefully and opened her eyes to slits. She was immediately greeted with a searing agony deep in the back of her eyes as her dilated pupils took in the bright lights of a surprisingly well stocked medical bay. Still, as prepared as she was, she couldn't help letting a few less than graceful words slip out before squeezing her eyes shut again after she had seen what she needed to. She fumbled her way back onto the bed and placed her pillow over her eyes before finally relaxing her eyelids. Whoever had brought her here seemed to have some knowledge of first aid, but was obviously not well versed in the finer points of trauma treatment. Anyone who was would have known to leave the lights off or at least dimmed for a concussed patient. That ruled out Reyes even if the fact that she was completely alive hadn't. He had never known which side of the band-aid was the sticky one, much less how to use half the equipment she had seen. X-rays, microscopes, even what seemed to be a well stocked pharmaceutical cabinet. Unfortunately it also ruled out 76 and Carlos, neither of which struck her as people to seek medical attention for anything that wasn't immediately life threatening and besides, 76 was a vigilante. He would have dragged her to some hospital and run off to beat more people to a pulp. So then who… Angela heard footsteps coming nearer. Jolted into action by fear, she Quickly put the pillow back behind her head and placed the rag over her head, wincing as the quick movements agitated her already pounding headache, and tried her best to give an approximation of sleep. She strained to pick up on what she was sure were muttering voices, but she simply couldn't make out what they were saying. The door opened.

"She is still asleep. Are you sure she will be alright Brigitte?"

Angela knew that voice, and she couldn't keep a smile off her lips.

"Yes Reinhardt," She said, sitting up and squinting at the giant german sweetheart, " I will be just fine, but could you turn the lights down dear? They're hurting my head a bit."

The look on the gentle behemoth's face as he rushed to do as she asked actually made her laugh, then wince as stabbing pains rocketed through her skull.

"I'm sorry Angela I didn't mean to leave them on it's just with my condition I sometimes get a bit forgetful."

That wiped the smile off her face. Now that she thought of it, when was the last time she'd been able to check up on him?

"Its progressed? How long Reinhardt? How long since the last attack?"

He shrugged nonchalantly and rubbed the back of his head. Angela frowned and turned to Brigitte. Angela hadn't known the young mechanic long, but she seemed rather level headed, even if she did enable reinhardt to continually worsen his condition by repairing that accused armor. The engineer sighed.

"He's been having them more regularly, about twice a month. Last time, he slammed his fist through a brick wall without even realizing until he saw the blood on his knuckles."

Angela leveled a stern glare at the aging soldier. She refused to use that accused title the germans had given him.

"Why didn't you tell me Reinhardt? I can help you, at least help you make them more manageable."

Reinhardt frowned.

"How? How could you help me Angela? This is what I chose. To protect my nation. I knew the risks. The fact is I'm not going to be around much longer, and my mind will fade long before that."

Angela shook her head. She WOULD help him dammit. She would not lose another friend to these accursed super soldier programs.

"Reinhardt you have to listen-"

"NO ANGELA, YOU LISTEN. I'M GOING INSANE, AND THERE IS NOTHING YOU OR ANYONE ELSE CAN DO ABOUT IT."

The room went silent as a resounding crash thundered through the room. After a few moments, Angela spoke up, trying very hard to keep the shake out of her voice.

"Reinhardt, please come here and let me look at your hand. I'm worried you cut a tendon."

Reinhardt frowned in confusion and looked over to find his hand covered in blood and broken glass where the plexi glass pharmaceutical cabinet had been. As soon as he realized what had happened, his eyes widened with shame and obediently moved over to her, grabbing a roll of bandages and a bottle of isopropyl alcohol with his free hand. Angela quickly assessed the damage. She knew none of the glass could have gotten very deep. Reinhardt's muscle was so thick even on his hands that he was practically immune to smaller edged weaponry, let alone shards of glass. She quickly plucked out the stray shards, washed away the blood with alcohol and bandaged it. The real reason she wanted him closer was to see his eyes. One thing she had noticed was that the iris's subjects suffering from GAT(genetic augmentation trauma) got brighter and more vivid the more the disorder progressed. In Reinhardt's case, the blue discs of his eyes were quite bright, but still not as shining as they would be if he was truly on the cliff. She smiled at him when she was done bandaging the hand and examining his eyes, then glanced over to where Brigitte was staring a hole into the side of her head. The engineer raised and eyebrow, and Angela suppressed a sigh. She did have a right to know.

"Excuse me Reinhardt, but could you leave me alone with brigitte a moment? This suit is not the most comfortable thing to wear to bed, and I think I will need help changing."

Reinhardt smiled back.

"Of course Angela. I have been meaning to make some adjustments to my hammer anyway. The kids think flames are cool yes?"

Angela chuckled.

"Yes reinhardt, flames are always cool."

Reinhardt nodded with a grin and scurried out of the room, which was quite a sight from a man of his bulk.

Angela dropped the smile as soon as he left the room and looked at Brigitte. She opened her mouth to speak, but the young mechanic beat her to it.

"I think its way past time you told me what was going on. Whatever is wrong with Rein, it isnt 'dementia'. He's my best friend, I think I at least deserve that much so don't give me any excuses."

Angela raised a brow. The woman was standing with her arms crossed under her breasts and a challenging glare on her face. Honestly she reminded herself in younger days.

"You're absolutely right brigitte. I honestly would have told you sooner if I had realized the extent of the progression. I guess it's best if I start at the beginning.

############################################################################

Reinhardt's grin faded as soon as he closed the door. He doubt Angela had any more intention of changing than he did of painting his hammer. He had an old friend to check up on after all.

############################################################################

Jack moved quickly through the corridors, keeping an eye out for guards or anywhere his gear might be locked up. From what he could tell, he was in some kind of old complex, judging from the outdated medical equipment sitting in his cell. He couldn't keep a smirk off his face. That ruled out Mercy at least. The woman would have thrown a fit if she saw the state of that equipment. That is before shanking him to death with a hypodermic needle, bringing him back, and then shanking him again if she ever realized who he was. That thought sobered him. She could never know. Jack Morrison was dead because he was weak, and she was a part of that weakness. He couldn't let her near him. She would just get hurt. He hoped she was alright. He wasn't sure he could make it knowing something had happened to her because of kept moving forward.

The end of the corridor split in two directions, both branches were seemingly identical. Jack sighed. He wasn't going to magically discern the right path by sitting on his heels staring back and forth. He might as well just choose a direction. Deciding to go left, he was about halfway down the hall when he heard an unmistakable voice resonate from behind him.

"Leaving so soon, commander?"

Jack stopped in his tracks. Of all the scenarios in his head, this was one he had never even considered. Slowly he turned to face the man who had once been one of his closest friends and advisors.

"Reinhardt. So you were the one that saved me."

The older man nodded. His face was uncharacteristically grim.

"I couldn't very well leave Angela to fight that man alone, and it was clear that 'soldier 76' could not defeat him on his own. If Jack Morrison had been there, I would not have been needed."

Jack grunted. The implications of those words felt almost like a physical blow. The man was no fool, whatever he let others believe.

"Where is my gear Reinhardt?"

The last crusader sighed.

"I was hoping to talk some sense into you Jack. But I guess a part of you really is dead."

Jack raised a brow. At least he seemed to understand he couldn't stop him short of slamming him through a wall. But still…

"What makes you say that, old friend."

Reinhardt looked at him, and there was nothing friendly in his startlingly blue eyes.

"You never even asked if she was alright Jack. she was your friend once. Now you can't even be bothered to wonder if she's still alive." Reinhardt turned his back and started walking away. "Your weapons and armor are down the hall, third door on the left. There's a combination lock, code is 1496."

Jack stared after him for a second. He'd never known Reinhardt could be so cold. But it was for the best. He couldn't afford weakness. He turned to get his gear, when He heard Reinhardt start to speak again.

"One more thing. Stay away from my friends from now on. I've tolerated it up till now because I thought you were something you are not. If you get one of my family hurt again, I will not hesitate to kill you, soldier 76."

As he left the building with his gear, the only thought that crossed Jack's mind was

That Reinhardt, the gentle crusader, had just told him he would kill him if he hurt his family again. And He had said something else, clear as day. Jack Morrison really was dead. All that was left was soldier 76. And he was not impressed.


	7. Chapter 7

Collision Course

AN: **HEEEY GUYS. IM BACK AND GET READY FOR SOME CRAAAZY SHIT COMIN UP.**

"...we will remember not the words of our enemies, but the silence of our friends"

-MLK

Reinhardt shied away from the golden beacon of womanly fury stalking towards him. Never, in all his life, had the crusader imagined that a 5'9" blonde woman would put more fear into him that a tower of bastion units, and yet the look in Angela's eyes was hell frozen over.

"HE WAS HERE?" She screamed(dear god he was going to die) "My PATIENT was here, and you not only didn't tell me, but CHASED him out into the streets? He must have been half dead Reinhardt, how could you let him leave in that condition you...you… UGH"

Angela threw up her hands and attempted to storm past the giant man, who stopped her as gently as he could.

"Angela, please" he had to reason with her. Jack would get her killed. "Even if I were to let you go after him, which I will not, he's long gone by now. You'd never find him and then you'd just be on your own in the slums again."

Reinhardt sighed as the stubborn doctor briefly attempted to get around him somehow before stepping back and planting her feet.(ooooh no. not the pose)

"Reinhardt, you will move out of the doorway and allow me to pass this very instant," She paused as if considering something,"And you will also stop overtraining your muscles and focus on your cardio. You're a big man, your heart needs to be efficient for you to lead a healthy life."

The crusader wisely decided not to point out that he was slowly going insane and that his cardiovascular condition would not be much of an issue then. He knew very well, and he knew better than to argue when she was like this. Instead, he simply mumbled 'yes ma'am", and stepped sideways to allow her through. As she zipped past him to where her things were stored, he knew that while he couldn't stop her from leaving, he would need to make sure she was safe. Sighing, he pulled a small black rectangle with a single symbol marked in gloss grey on the back.

##############################################################################

Angela was truly incensed. How could that idiot leave in his condition? Where the hell was he even going to go, or more accurately crawl to? And with Reyes prowling around hunting. She closed her eyes as her eyes started stinging. What in God's name had been done to him? She had felt his body as she'd tried to escape his death grip. It was as if he had been made of plastic. She shivered and resumed her packing. There would be time to deal with Reyes later. First she needed to find that idiot vigilante and bring him in before he got himself killed or broken...broken. He had to have been nearly dead when reinhardt arrived. Her staff could heal many things, as could the vigilante's biotic field technology, but not nearly that much and not nearly that fast. How on earth could he have been in shape to move… oh no. no no no. no longer concerned with packing, mercy snagged her wings and staff from the corner peg and sprinted out of the room, her heart like a block of ice. That idiot, she thought as she sprinted out into the street. That self destructive, narcissistic, bullheaded fucking moron. He had NO idea what he was playing with, and if she didn't get to him in time he wouldn't be dead, he'd be a lab rat in some government cell. And she'd be damned of any patient of HERS was going to be taken to Helix's sick little torture chamber( _again_ , her mind added silently. But she forced that thought back down to the dark recesses of her mind where it belonged)

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 **To be continued in the next chapter, which by the way is the reason for the long absence. It's going to be a giant chunk of the story and I want to make sure its perfect first. This is a little preview thing to show off the difference in quality and make sure you now Im still alive :)**


	8. Chapter 8

Soldier 76 cracked his knuckles and slowly stalked towards the cartel dealer, dodging a barrage of clumsy, untrained blows as the smaller man quickly backed himself up against the grimy alley wall.

"Listen man, you know who I work for?" The man asked with a noticeable tremor.

"If they find out you touched me they'll…" The stream of words cut off instantly as he felt the cold blade of a knife pressed against his jugular, a warm trickle of blood dripping down his throat.

The jaded vigilante smiled behind his visor. His hand itched to pull the blade through the artery and remove this filth from the earth. But he still needed information, so for now he would take solace in the fact that the man's voice had ceased its rambling assault on his ears.

"I am going to ask you three questions," 76 said softly, letting his cold rage seep into every syllable. "if you speak for any reason other than answering those questions, I will slit your throat. Nod if you understand."

The man nodded, his greasy black hair falling in his eyes.

"Good. now, first question. Which one of the heads made the call to start selling to kids?"

The man seemed to contemplate not speaking, until he felt the blade dig a bit deeper into his neck.

"It was the new guy. The American with the funny name." He stammered, praying none of his boss's informants were around to hear him squealing.

76 frowned behind his visor. A new head?

"Right. Where can I find the American?"

"Oh, come on man! He'll kill me!" the man stammered, looking around frantically for a way to escape.

"So, will I," 76 murmured, his serrated knife never wavering. "the difference is, I'm the one with my knife to your throat right now. Now talk."

"I don't know, OK? Nobody does! Guy just shows up in one of those Helix vans every now and then, and tells us where to drop the product!"

This time, only his years of training kept the vigilante from dropping his knife. Helix? What the hell was going on here?

"Bullshit. Helix is clean!" He started to tighten his grip on the blade.

"You really think you can survive lying to me?"

To his surprise, the man now seemed angry rather than afraid.

"Clean? Are you kidding me? Helix has got more blood on their hands than a butcher." He seemed to be struggling to keep his voice level now, a far cry from the timid man he was a second ago."They've levelled hundreds of villages, and used force to do it, to make way for their 'projects.' I've seen it."

76 frowned. He would need to investigate this further. First though, he had a loose end to tie up. Slowly he released the pressure on the man's neck and stepped back. Then, as the man turned his back and began to run, the vigilante pulled a pistol from its holster and tapped two in the back of the man's skull. It would be chalked up to gang violence and besides this was the barrios of dorado. No one was going to notice another young man dead in the street.

Hours later, Jack made it to the building he was using as his base for the moment, a decrepit and abandoned old shop of some kind with an equally dusty and ancient apartment upstairs.

Limping his way up the stairs (he had broken his leg somewhere in the night, he honestly didn't keep track anymore.) He suddenly stiffened and stifled a scream as his body suddenly felt as if it had been doused in acid, his bones audibly creaking under the strain of his rapidly spasming enhanced musculature. They'd said it would be bad, but it _hurt_. Desperately, he forced his way up the stairs and finally collapsed in a heap on the landing, letting out a bloodcurdling scream that was so far removed from his own mind that he barely registered it.

His whole world was this pain, this all engulfing agony as his muscles began crushing his skeleton and his nerves began literally cooking under the pressure of his enhanced and unbridled strength. And yet somehow, through all of this, he still heard the footsteps slamming on the staircase, still struggling (and failed) to rise to try and fight off whoever had found him. He felt hands grab his jacket and roughly roll him over, and a strangely beautiful, lilting voice shouting at him. Angela.

"Dammit 76! Where is it?" Angela asked.

"Angel…"

"Where is the field? 76 stay with me, I need you to tell me where the biotic field device is before your heart becomes affected…"

The rest was a mess of buzzing and ringing. But he had heard enough and slowly, agonizingly, forced his jaw to move.

"It's in the compartment to the right of the sidearm, Angel."

Out of the corner of his now spasming eye, he saw her fumbling in his belt, then a few seconds later, all he felt was blissful relief.

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As soon as Angela found his biotic device and activated it, the vigilante collapsed in a heap, exhausted, unconscious, and undoubtedly still in pain, but alive. Seeing him like that, collapsed and breathing softly on the floor, she couldn't help but think he looked almost peaceful, almost like…

 _She watched with wry amusement as the soldier drooled on his pillow with his body nearly completely uncovered. Somehow, he always managed to struggle completely free of the covers except for one leg in his sleep, before sleeping like a comatose log for the rest of the night. Chuckling, Angela gently tucked herself back in his arms and drifted back to sleep…_

Angela blinked as the memory faded back into her mind. Where had that come from? Her eyes widened. " _Oh_ ," She thought, " _it must have been when he called me Angel."_

That had been one of Jack's pet names for her. Poor man, must have been delirious with pain if he thought she was a messenger from up above. Speaking of said patient, she supposed she couldn't leave her unconscious patient to sleep on a filthy carpeted floor, and began looking around for a better place to store her charge. Unfortunately, the only reasonable option was a relatively intact couch as the bed was in tatters.

Deciding it was still better than the floor (which she was fairly certain had been red long before it was grey-brown.) She bent down to pick up the unconscious vigilante and was surprised to find she couldn't even pick him up to drag him. Frowning, she unzipped the jacket and found the source of her problem. Layer after layer of steel fiber body armor and polymer plating. She had deduced the man was a so called 'super soldier', but even for one of them (barring the German Crusader program), this had to be an intense weight to carry, especially considering how fast she had seen him move.

Sighing, she began the arduous process of deciphering and undoing the maze of buckles, ties, and zippers to remove the heavy armor until she finally had him down to just a black thermal shirt (which amazingly still had small carbon fiber plates over vital areas to protect against knives) and set to the business of carrying/dragging him to the ratty old couch and getting him settled. After running a quick check on his vitals, she turned to go find somewhere on the floor to lie down herself when she heard him mutter something that made her snap her head back to him in surprise.

"Angela, should've asked…" He was still muttering through his visor, distorting his voice into that gravelly tone she was accustomed to.

After a few minutes, she calmed herself down. Of course, he wasn't talking about her. Why would he be? He barely knew her.

"Angel, m'sorry."

She froze. There it was again. Angel. Still, she rationalized, that wasn't an uncommon nickname…

She stared at his visor. Who was this man? Why was it that half the people asked said he was a monster, and yet others talked of a protector and a good, if brusque, man who stood up for the weak? The man who had searched her out when she'd gone missing at his own risk. Who'd nearly gotten killed fighting Reyes for her. She felt as if she deserved to know that at least, after all the trouble he'd caused her recently. Steeling herself for whatever she might find underneath, she reached down and pressed the release buttons on both sides of the device…


	9. Chapter 9

**AN: Welp here's part two folks. Hope ya like it, lemme know what ya think, I love talking to yall. Peace.**

Serpents and Secrets, pt2

...Angela's fingers activated the release mechanisms on either side of the visor and slowly slid it up off the sleeping vigilante's face, revealing first a stubble lined jaw, then the beginnings of a long scar that seemed to have been cut there by some jagged shard of glass or metal, and finally a heart-shattering crooked nose and stubborn brow she knew all too well. She stared at him, his face was scarred and his nose was more crooked than she remembered, but she would know that look of absolute serenity on his sleeping face anywhere.

"Jack…" She whispered, her eyes glued to his face like a drowning woman to driftwood. Angela stayed there, muttering his name as she stared at his sleeping face, for what felt like an eternity. But for all her shock, she couldn't help but feel something was wrong.

She knew she should feel an overwhelming sense of relief, joy, something. Commander Morrison, her Jack, was alive. Instead, all she felt was a dark pang of something she didn't want to identify twisting around in her gut. Looking blankly at the visor clutched in her white knuckled hands, she turned and walked away. She needed to sleep, and she knew she wouldn't be able to in this room.

Several silent hours of laying wide awake in the dilapidated bed passed before Angela heard the vigilante stir. She wasn't surprised, Accelerated Mitochondria Induced Regeneration(AMR) was taxing under normal circumstances, much more so without regular doses of the controlling agent released by that biotic device he carried. She was honestly impressed 76 had survived the ordeal. Speaking of which, she supposed it was necessary to check up on her patient. She got up off the bed and grabbed the visor and her first aid kit before making her way back into the dusty living room.

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The first thing Jack noticed when he woke up was exhaustion. He'd been tired before, he'd been through missions most people would have thought impossible, gone days without sleep, but this was different. He physically couldn't find the strength to do much more than shuffle on the couch he assumed Angela had somehow dragged him to after last night's ordeal. What the hell had he signed himself up for with these new abilities? The second was that he was hungry enough to eat a horse, raw if need be. He kept some food in the refrigerator that miraculously still worked. Across the room… his stomach growled painfully, and Jack realized his accelerated metabolism was probably at its very limit.

Groaning with herculean effort, he forced himself into a sitting position and rested his head in his hands as he caught his breath, wiping sweat off his face... his face. His Visor was gone. He didn't bother asking who had taken it, the answer was obvious. And yet when he heard her voice coming from the entryway to the bedroom, Jack couldn't keep from turning towards it with all the speed his exhausted body could muster.

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Angela couldn't help but raise her brow when she saw him already stumbling towards the fridge(which somehow was still functioning, strangely enough).

"You really should not be walking yet, 76." she muttered, sliding her arm under his shoulders and walking him over to the one semi stable looking chair at the ancient table in the kitchenette. Sitting him down, she rummaged through the fridge until she found 3 apples that seemed only slightly bruised and a pack of beef jerky(of course he would think Jerky was an acceptable meal). She set them down on the table and sat opposite him, digging through her first aid kit to see what she needed to restock.

"Eat," She muttered without looking up. "Your body is at its limit, you need calories now or you'll be unconscious on the couch again in minutes at best, and I do not look forward to dragging you all the way there a second time."

When he continued to not eat, she sighed and looked up at her to see him staring at her, his blue eyes unwavering and bright as ever.

"What are you doing Angela?" he asked her, his eyes never shifting from her face.

"Im treating my patient, 76." She said, forcing herself to meet his eyes. They were still bright, but there was something new behind them. Something that didn't belong.

He relented and bit into an apple, finishing the whole thing in three enormous bites before moving onto the next. He went on eating for a bit, finishing all the apples and half the beef before he spoke again. When he did, there was more color in his face, and a considerable amount of heat in his voice.

"So what, you have nothing to say to me?" He asked, his eyes narrowing. "I don't expect you to understand, but-"

Angela wasn't going to let him finish.

"Oh I have many things to say to you 76," She hoped she made the alias sound as venomous as it tasted in her mouth, "But I doubt there'd be a point. Thugs and murderers don't listen to reason."

Angela held herself still as the supersoldier slammed his fist down on the table, His eyes full of ice and thunder.

"I'm doing what needs to be done Angela!," every line in his face screamed pain, and Angela couldn't help but note how old it made him look, " Someone set us up. Burned overwatch to the ground, killed our friends."

Angela fought to keep her calm.

"Not all your friends died in that fight Jack. Reinhardt was still there, Winston, Lena." She blinked furiously as something stung at her eyes, "Do you have any idea what it was like visiting your grave? I would sit there for hours, talking to the ghost of the man I loved, knowing that you couldn't hear me, and realizing deep down that no matter how many people I saved, from then on, it wouldn't matter. Not really. Because you were gone, and in the darkest parts of my mind I knew that if I was given the choice of undoing every person I've brought back from the brink in exchange for you, just you, I'd do it. The day you died is the day the hero in me went in the ground with you."

Angela continued to glare at him through the silence that followed, keeping her hands flat on the table by sheer force of will as he gave her an unreadable look. Something else changed. Jack had been an open book, this man was pure hunter. unreachable and dangerous. When he finally spoke, his eyes darkened like stormclouds.

"I'm sorry for any pain that my near death may have caused you Angela. It wasn't my intention. Now, I'll be needing my visor back and your word that you'll keep my identity hidden, then you're free to go. I'm sure your friends are worried about you."

Angela blinked in surprise. Had the man just _dismissed her?_ Slowly, she leaned forward until their noses nearly brushed, the fury rattling around in her brain making her bold.

"No. I'm not going anywhere Jack." He opened his mouth to talk, but she got there first, "I lost you once, I will not lose you again. You are a hero Jack, and heroes are never alone."

He laughed then, and Angela startled back as she fought to hold her anger. It was a broken, empty laugh. The laugh of a dead man.

"I'm not a hero Angela. I'm selfish, destructive. I'm out for myself."

Angela opened her mouth to respond, to tell him to stop talking nonsense and listen to her, but he moved faster. One second, he was sitting there looking at her through those half lidded, unreachable eyes, and the next he had pulled her into his lap and pressed his lips against hers. On instinct her eyes closed and her hands twisted in his hair as he pulled her closer, arms snaking around her waist and sliding over her back. It was different from the old Jack. He had always held her like a china doll, afraid he might hurt her. It had been her only gripe about their relationship. Now though, he held her like a woman, rough but still careful, his hands never moving too fast but still setting the pace. And yet something was wrong. " _Im destructive_ ," he'd said, " _out for myself."_ She had heard the self loathing in those words, but right now she couldn't focus. Jack, her Jack, was still alive. He was holding her, and she needed him just as much as he needed her right then. She could play psychiatrist in the morning.

 **AN: did mercy make a mistake? Can you blame her? If my girlfriend disapeared for 4 years and suddenly came back as a brooding anti hero, I don't know if I'd have the fortitude to be selfless. Lemme know yall! Adios for now.**

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	10. Chapter 10

Ok guys so good news and bad news.

Good News: Im back in full force, and This story is being continued.

Bad news: Im rewriting the whole thing with a similar vibe, but with a new style and some VERY important plot changes that I cannot shoehorn into the original without it feeling blocky and forced. So, feel free to express dissatisfaction in the reviews, I know I would if I were you. Im a boxer, so trust me when I say I can take the heat.

Good news 2: I will also be continuing another of my works, storms and angels, and it is turning into a request one shot forum with mercy and 76 updated weekly. The one shot will be selected randomly from the reviews section, so that will be fun.


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